The Tracks Of Time
by Emma Sparrow
Summary: Something big and fast is literally letting off steam in Jasper, Texas when it starts to kill off some of the towns residents. Can Sam and Dean stop it before it kills anyone else? THREE PART SHORT STORY
1. PART ONE OF THREE

**PART ONE OF THREE**

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Larry Steinberg drove down the highway and whistled happily to the country tune that came on the radio. Some cowboy had lost his girl along with everything else, and listening to the lonesome man's sorrow made Larry feel grateful for his own life. After spending three weeks out of town at an investments convention, he was finally able to go home to his wife.

He didn't like to be away from Pam for a long amount of time, but he wasn't ready to give up on work just yet. Staying at home all day every day, would drive him stir crazy. Pam too, eventually. She'd made countless attempts at convincing him to retire, but he couldn't bring himself to. He liked working, and he was lucky to have had such great opportunities still, and being sixty two years old certainly wasn't going to slow him down as far as he was concerned. It was just an age after all, and he felt as though he still had quite a few more good years left in him. Life had turned out pretty well.

He smiled to himself as he saw the familiar sign on the town limit, that indicated he had almost reached his destination. His town. The place where he had lived for all of his life, the place where he belonged to after coming home from his work. It was always a comfort to know that the long roads that he drove down, always led him straight back to here eventually.

The song finished up, and an announcer came on to read the news, stating that the time was now midnight. Another day was finally over, and being reminded of this caused a yawn to erupt from Larry. He couldn't wait to get home to Pam, she would always wait up for him when he was due back, no matter what the time was. He smiled to himself for a moment, as he pictured her tender smiling face welcoming him home. He also looked forward to being able to sleep in his own bed. The motels and hotels that he got to stay in were nice and all, but nothing felt more comfortable then the feel of his own pillows, and his own sheets, and the way they smelled of the floral detergent that Pam would carefully pick out from the store.

For a moment, he needed to turn off the thoughts of home and instead, concentrate on the road. A layer of thick white mist was suddenly hovering over the asphalt, illuminated brightly by his headlights. It was strange, he thought, for it to be here on such a clear night, even the moon was shining down full and strong overhead, but he simply shrugged it off. It didn't matter. He'd be arriving in town in a minutes time, it was waiting for him just behind that very patch of mist, then he'd be home in less then five minutes after that.

Suddenly, something interfered with the radio's signal, and the newsreader's voice crackled, then faded in and out on a wave of distortion. "What the hell...?" Larry said out loud to himself as he reached over and pressed a few buttons on the panel, but the signal did not recover properly.

After failing at his attempt at re-tuning into the station, he turned it off altogether, cursing under his breath as he was plunged into the silence of the night, only the sound of the engine for company. But just then, the engine started to stutter and cough roughly.

"Oh hell! What now?" Larry shouted out in anger as the whole car suddenly started to die. The noise that he could hear in the engine became worse, it cried out with mechanical pain, causing the whole car to start jumping and misbehaving, before finally, it cut out, and it all went silent.

Before Larry had managed to apply the brake with his frustrated and fumbling foot, the now un-powered car rolled for a couple of short moments coming out of the mist before the pedal went down, and it came to a stop.

Larry applied the handbrake, and shot a quick glance out of the windshield. Just up ahead, he could see the town's first house, which looked out towards the road, a huge tree stood on the property's boundary, it's branches silhouetted black, and jagged like a worn wire brush against the moon lit, star speckled sky.

He tried the ignition, a few clicks and choking sounds were let off as the engine struggled, but the car just wouldn't start up. After trying a few more times, he gave up, and instead, hit the dash with fisted hands in frustration.

He squinted his focus back towards the house, and saw that it's resident had left the porch light on, but the rest of the house was in total darkness. For a moment, he considered taking a walk up there, seeing if anyone could come and help him out with his car, but realised that at this hour, most folks would already have turned in for the night. Instead, he reached over to the glove compartment, and let his hands search through the various receipts and CDs that were shoved in there in a disorderly fashion, and pulled out his cell phone.

He didn't like to use the phone normally, which is why he kept it stowed away. Not only did he despise the damn things, but he just wasn't very good at using the latest type of gadgets. Besides all of that, he tended to accidently press two buttons at a time whilst dialling with his thick fingers, but Pam had insisted that he always carried it around in case of emergencies, and, as it was just that, he figured he had no choice but to give in to technology just this once.

He'd call Pam. She'd have to come out in her car to get him, then he'd be able to sort out what to do with his in the morning. To hell with it tonight, he was too tired to call out the break down service, especially when he was so close to home now.

He looked at the phone screen, then scratched his head in puzzlement with his left hand as he tried to remember how Pam had told him to use it. He supposed that the young 'uns were better with these things then he was, but these gizmos wern't around when he was younger and he'd managed just fine without one, at least until now. Funny how these things could creep up and bite you in the ass.

He pressed down a random button, and the screen became bright, which faintly lit his car up with an eerie blue glow. Then, making an effort to press each button in turn carefully, he punched in their home number, then lifted the phone to his ear.

As the phone rang out, it started to crackle, much the same as the radio had, but Larry kept it going anyway. Finally, he heard a different sound in the earpiece. It was a throaty whistling sound. Strange, he thought. Then the phone cut out and the power went off on it. "Damn stupid thing!" he shouted, chucking it onto the passenger seat in anger.

He let out a heavy sigh as he tried to calm his temper. Then he heard the whistling again.

This time, the high pitched noise was accompanied by another sound, and whatever it was, sounded as though it was getting closer.

Larry shifted uncomfortably on his seat, and turned so that he could see out of the passenger window, the direction that his ears were telling him the sounds were coming from. But there was nothing there, just an empty dried out field bleached by the moonlight, though he could still hear the sound getting closer and closer.

He reached down to his side, and undid the seat belt so that he could Lean closer to the window, looking out to find the source of the sound, the whistle again sounding over the heavy _clickedy clack_, _clickedy clacks_. "What on earth_ is_ that?" he asked himself as a puzzled expression crossed over his face. He squinted into the night that surrounded him.

Suddenly out of nowhere, more mist appeared in the distance, though it seemed to spray outward as if something were pushing it's way through. Then a strange darkness shimmered where the mist was parting, at first translucent, then solidifying as it drew closer, fast. Very fast.

Larry's face dropped in horror as the shape became clearer. He reached for the door handle, but it was stuck. Without hesitation, he scrambled to the other door, and reached out to open that. But that's when another strange thing happened. The locks suddenly went down on the remaining doors. He was trapped inside.

As the panic started to eat away at his nerves, he beat his fists on the windshield, yelling hopelessly as the huge locomotive carried on heading towards the side of the car on a direct collision course. Failing to break the glass, Larry tried one last attempt at the ignition, but to no avail.

In his last moment of life, Larry turned his gaze on the speeding train, which was identified as 'No. 5' from the plate on the front of it's boiler, and that's when he realised that he now knew exactly how that cowboy had felt.

The car was thrown into the air on impact, the side now a mangled mess that resembled a crushed tin can, as it fell and rolled on the ground numerous times before landing on its squashed down roof, debris shuttling outwards in all directions.

The locomotive started to slow down as it whistled again, it's wheels screeching to a halt on a non-existent track, as steam was sent pouring from it's boiler in a flurry of cotton-like strands. Then, it flickered, carriages and all, and finally disappeared into thin air.

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_**ONE WEEK LATER...**_

"Okay, this is kinda strange." said Dean Winchester. He was looking down at the newspaper that he had opened out on his lap as his hands cupped a steaming hot coffee. His feet were up on the small table that was set in front of him, crossed at the ankles.

"What is it?" his brother Sam asked curiously, looking up from his laptop.

Dean looked up from the paper and met Sam's gaze, "Well, I think I just found our next gig."

Sam was relieved. They'd been stuck in this damn motel for almost a week now, and they had been looking through obits, keeping an ear on the police scanner, and he'd scoured the internet for signs of anything supernatural happening somewhere in America, but for some strange reason, things had been kinda quiet recently. Until now, that is.

He'd never been a fan of just sitting around waiting for things to happen, that just made him feel useless. He liked to be out there, active. Trying to make a difference, even if it were only a small difference. He had to be doing _something_.

He closed the screen on the laptop down, and hopped off the bed on which he'd been sat, then walked towards the table and sat on a plump padded crimson chair opposite Dean. "So what have you found?" he asked.

"Well," started Dean, looking back down at the paper, referring to it, rather then reading it out word for word, "Two people have been killed in Jasper, Texas. The first victim, was a Larry Steinberg, a business man who worked out of town a lot. According to this, he'd been travelling home after some convention he'd been to, when the accident occurred, just as he'd driven back into town. His car was completely messed up. The're pretty certain that he died instantaneously on impact. He had multiple skull fractures, and both of his legs were broken, amongst other things. From what they can tell, it was probably some sort of large vehicle that collided with him, hitting from the side."

"What about the second victim?" Sam asked.

"A Ray Henderson. They found him in his car, which was in an almost identical condition as they'd found Larry Steinberg's, except for the fact that instead of it happening as he was _heading_ into town, it seems that he was leaving at the time. He also died from fatal injuries, and his car was banged up the same way, and both accidents happened on the exact same bit of road."

Sam's interest piqued, "The same place? Did anyone see what happened?"

"It says here, that there was one witness to Henderson's death, a Dolly Hancock, but the sheriff's department have dismissed her statement, saying that it isn't a viable enough eye witness account."

"Not viable enough?" Sam asked.

"Yeah," Dean continued, "She claims to have seen what happened that night from her porch. She lives not too far from where the accidents happened, the first house on the edge of town. Anyways, it seems these reporters," he tapped his finger onto the paper, "quizzed her about it themselves later on, and she told them that she'd seen a train appear, then hit Henderson's car, before it kinda just...vanished into thin air. Of course though, like the police, no one is taking her seriously."

"Great. So we've got ourselves a _ghost train_?" Sam asked slightly bewildered, his eyebrows raised.

"Sure looks like it. I mean, I think we should definitely go check it out before anyone else gets killed." Dean answered seriously.

Sam sighed, "We get some interesting jobs that's for sure." but deep down inside, he was glad that they had finally found something worthwhile to do.

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Steven Bradbury franticly threw the suitcase from the closet and across the room where it landed on his bed. He paced around, his hot skin flushed red and sweating with the stress, as he decided what he would need to pack. Finally, he bent down to a bottom drawer, scooped the entire contents up into his arms, took a few steps across to his bed, and threw everything messily into the case. He didn't have time to worry about the fact that he was creasing everything up.

He repeated this ritual a few times, until he'd managed to gather himself a mixture of different clothes, shoes and under garments. Finally, he hurried over to the night stand, and opened the small top compartment. He took out a thick wedge of dollar bills that he'd been keeping in there for emergencies, and pushed them deep into the inside pocket of his denim jacket. His hand reached back into the compartment searching once more until he found the other item that he'd been looking for. His passport. He wasn't even sure if he'd be needing it yet, but thought it would be a wise idea to take it just in case.

Stuffing the passport into the same pocket as the money, he turned on his heels, and leaned across to zip the suitcase up. The zipper tried to fight back due to the un-even bulkiness of the items within, but he persisted. Pushing around the edge with his left hand, he brought the zip around with his right. It took him a couple of minutes, but in the end, he had succeeded in sealing it up, and immediately lifted it up by the handle.

He took big strides through the house, until finally reaching the front door. He let himself out, slamming the door behind him as he made his way over to his truck. He opened the drivers door and tossed his suitcase across to the passenger seat, then climbed up into the cab, where for a second, he paused to take in a deep breath. "It's gonna be alright Stevie," he said out loud to himself, "gonna be far away from here in no time at all."

He reached the key down and slotted it into the ignition, turning it straight away. His old truck came to life, and he drove away fast, his tyres scratching against the dirt before they caught hold of the friction.

As he soared through the town, his head was far away, filled with chaotic thoughts. Things were just getting way too crazy for his liking, and he needed to get the hell out of here.

Keeping one hand on the steering wheel, he reached the other arm up and wiped away the sweat from his brow with his sleeve, but more soon formed across the line of his greying hair. It was darn hot today, and the sun was blazing down on the truck's exterior, heating up the insides like an oven, and Steven found himself regretting to get the air conditioning fixed. He would just have to put up with it for now.

A few minutes later, he was relieved to see that he hadn't got far to go before he could put the whole nightmare behind him. Before he could get away from Jasper and the whole god damn mess for good. He quickly glanced out of his window as he passed the old Hancock place, before returning his eyes to the road. _That crazy old lady and her meddling stories_, he thought to himself.

But all of a sudden, his engine started to sound funny. It coughed and spluttered loudly.

"Oh c'mon! Not now!" he yelled.

But the engine ignored his plea and cut out.

Forced to apply the break, the truck came to a halt. Steven felt a surge of panic overwhelm him as he looked out of the windows, jerking his head backwards and forwards, searching. But there was nothing to see, everything outside was quiet and still. Maybe a little _too_ quiet and still, an atmosphere just like the calm before the storm.

He reached for the door handle. But it wouldn't budge. "Sonofabitch!" he yelled, the annoyance creasing the deep lines on his aged skin.

He tried again and again, this time with more force, to open the door. But it was stuck. He tried the passenger side too, but that wasn't opening either. Deciding that wasn't going to work, he tried to wind down his window. That handle wouldn't budge either. "God damn piece of shit on wheels!" he cursed.

He sucked in a big lung full of air and relaxed in his seat for a moment. His eyes ran over the dash, then to the floor on the passenger side where he saw his torch. "Ah ha!" he said as he reached down to grab it.

He began to hit at his window with the end of the thick heavy torch, when finally, the glass cracked then gave way, falling outward. He then carefully placed his arm through the hole he'd made, and reached to the handle from the outside, but the jagged glass had snagged on his jacket sleeve. He tried to pull free, but he was caught near his upper arm and couldn't move. His face was almost touching what remained of the glass towards the edge of the frame, and he had to stay still so that he wouldn't cut his face.

That's when he heard the whistle.

Horror raged through him, and he realised that facing a few cuts would be better then facing the real threat that was after him. But he still couldn't get free. He tried to stretch his fingers, and felt around for the handle outside, but he couldn't reach it. His nails scratched helplessly at the metal exterior, glass fragments fell and cut his skin as it landed between his fingers. His breaths grew desperate and uncomfortable as he heard the whistling again, now accompanied by another noise that seemed to rumble through the ground.

Suddenly the glass that had held his jacket gave way, but the shard ripped through the denim and bit deep into his skin. He yelled out in pain, and then again as his face fell against the jagged edge and tore through his cheek. Blood poured down, and he felt nausea taking over, gripping him intensely.

Not being able to move for the pain, not being able to do anything to help himself, all he could do now, was wait as the sounds grew closer and the whistle got louder.

Then he saw it.

It appeared in a sudden wisp of thick mist just a few meters ahead of him. _No, not mist, steam_, he thought.

His eyes widened as the train approached fast. The old woman's story had been right after all.

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Dean drummed his fingers happily against the steering wheel as he drove to Ratt's 'Round And Round' so loudly, that he couldn't even hear the sound of the 1967 Chevrolet Impala's roaring engine over it.

It was a really sunny day out, and he felt on top of the world, his good mood unbreakable. He was even looking forward to this next hunt that he and Sam were going on, and was glad to have finally put the motel behind them. Kicking some evil ass would be a whole lot of fun right about now, and as they grew closer to Jasper, he could feel the excitement building up with every moment that he saw the Texas countryside whiz by through the windshield.

Suddenly, the music stopped, bringing Dean out of his reverie. He shot a quick sideways glance at his brother Sam just in time to see him pull his hand away from the radio. "Dude! I was listening to that!" he snapped. Okay, so maybe there _was_ something that could ruin his mood after all.

Sam didn't look at him, he simply pointed to something out of the windshield not too far up ahead. As they got closer, Dean could see a number of police patrol cars parked in a group, and one of the officers was cordoning off an area just off the road with yellow crime scene tape, wrapping it securely around makeshift stakes that they'd temporarily hammered into the ground.

"Okay...this has gotta be bad." Dean said as he started to ease off on the gas pedal and began to drive past very slowly, both himself and Sam glancing over at the accident. At the side of the road they could see that four tyres were stuck up in the air, the pickup truck that they belonged too, crumpled in on itself underneath. A number of police officers were walking carefully around the wreckage surveying the damage, some taking down notes, while others took photographs. A coroners van was also parked close by.

Deciding they should probably find out what had happened, Dean pulled the Impala over to the side of the road just up ahead, and stopped.

Sam had twisted himself around in his seat and was looking out through the rear window, trying to watch on from a different angle. Suddenly, he whipped his head back around and looked directly out of the windshield, and gazed at the house that was just up ahead.

Dean realised that Sam must have thought of something judging from the expression that was now on his face. "What is it?" he asked.

Before Sam answered, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the pages of the newspaper that they'd read about the recent accidents in. He gasped as he confirmed something to himself. "Dean! This is the same road that the other two accidents happened on!" he handed Dean the pages which showed various photos of the accidents before, the town, and Dolly Hancock's house which was the house that was right in front of them now.

"Damn! We didn't get here on time! It's killed someone else!" Dean cursed looking down at the photo, then back at the real Hancock house, "We gotta find out how to stop this friggin' train before it kills off the entire local population. At this rate, it wouldn't take it long!"

Dean was right. Three deaths in this short amount of time wasn't a good sign, and it wasn't as if there was a big population in town for the train to work it's way through. They had to act. Fast.

Just then there was a tapping at the window which made both Sam and Dean jump.

"You fellas shouldn't be stopping here! This is a crime scene! I'm gonna have to ask you to carry on drivin'!" said a young dark-haired man as he glared at the brothers through the glass. He was wearing a smart tan coloured uniform and a hat that matched. Embroidered badges on his shirt identified him as a deputy from the sheriff's department.

Dean shot a quick look at Sam before looking back at the man. "Er...we're sorry deputy...it's just we're from the Texas Tribune, we came to town to do a follow-up story about the two accidents that happened here recently, though it seems that we have arrived just in time for a third."

The deputy seemed to relax a little, "Yeah, this happened earlier on this afternoon. Local man, Steven Bradbury."

"We realise that you must be very busy," Sam said politely, "but is it alright if we ask you some questions about all three accidents, maybe let us take a closer look at the scene? The paper would be very grateful for any information that you might be able to give us."

The deputy's face went blank for a moment as it looked as if he was thinking this through, eying the brothers cautiously as he made his decision.

"Okay," he finally said, "I figure I may as well co-operate now, save from having more of your lot come into town and harass everyone later on. But we'd better make it quick."

"Of course, thank you deputy."


	2. PART TWO OF THREE

Sam thought It was nice to get out of the car and stretch his legs after the long drive, and was really glad that they had managed to convince deputy Denholm to let them poke around and ask a few questions. It wasn't often that they were on the better side of law enforcement, but more often then not, due to the nature of their job, it wasn't always possible to be.

"So," said Dean as the three of them made their way slowly to the truck wreckage, "have you found anything to connect the victims besides the identical way that they were killed?"

Deputy Denholm sighed heavily, "Well this is a small town. Everyone knows one another, so of course, all three men who died knew each other well too. I guess you could say that we are _all_ connected that way. Everyone and their parents grew up here, y'know."

"Could there be any chance that they were involved in something bad? Something which would have sent someone out to kill them?" Sam asked, though he knew that it wasn't a someone that had killed them, rather a _something_.

The deputy let out another sigh, "No. They were good folk. Law abiding, not to mention good neighbours. Old Steve even used to help organise community events, and raised money for charity. Can't think for a moment why on earth someone would want to kill him, or the others as that."

Sam's eyes wondered over the wreckage, and he noticed that there was a suitcase split open and it's contents were scattered outside one of the truck's windows. "Deputy Denholm, where was Mr. Bradbury going?" he nodded towards the case.

"Beats me. Never known the man to go on vacation, so I don't know why he'd have packed. He certainly didn't mention going away to anyone."

"All three accidents occurred in this exact same spot right?" Sam asked.

"Sure did. Ain't that the darndest thing?"

"So why didn't you close the road off?" Dean asked curiously. To him, this would have been the obvious thing to do.

"Well see, this roads the only one out of town at the moment. Theres construction work going on at the other end of town, so that's blocked up. Only other road in and out. Diggin' the whole damn thing up. At least the're gonna replace it all eventually. I can't begin to describe how many pot holes and such there was down there. Folks had been complaining."

"And what about the witness to Ray Henderson's death, Dolly Hancock, she lives in that house just there doesn't she?" Sam asked, pointing quickly in the direction of the house overlooking the scene.

Deputy Denholm let out quite a laugh upon hearing this question, "If you heard that she was the witness, then you must have heard what she was sayin' she saw that night!"

Dean humoured him by chuckling back, "Yeah, she claims to have seen a train. A train that...disappeared after hittin' the car."

"See, old Dolly, at eighty-five shes the town's oldest resident. Shes quite mobile for someone of her age, I'll give her that much. Just the years ain't been so kind to her upstairs, if y'know what I mean." as deputy Denholm said this, he made a point of pointing a finger to the side of his head, and moved it around in a quick circular motion, signalling that as far as he was concerned, Dolly Hancock was as dotty as you could get.

"So then what do you think might have _really_ happened?" Sam asked.

"Well if you ask me, it was probably some sort of heavy goods truck that struck their vehicles. Hopefully we will know more once forensics have finished having a look at all the evidence."

"Deputy Denholm?" another officer shouted across from one of the patrol cars causing Sam and Dean to turn also, "I got Sheriff Branscombe on the radio!"

"Okay! Be right there!" Denholm shouted back. He then turned his gaze back onto Sam and Dean, "You'll have to excuse me now fellas, I hope that you have everything that you need now."

"Yes Sir, thank you for your time." Sam replied courteously. Then deputy Denholm left him and Dean as he headed towards the car.

"Well that's been really helpful. Not." Dean said sarcastically.

"I think we need to go and talk to Dolly Hancock ourselves, get a better description of what she saw." Sam suggested. Even if deputy Denholm and everyone else around here thought she was crazy talking about a ghost train, Sam and Dean knew better about what _really_ existed, and they knew, that even with Dolly being a bit senile, she might make more sense then anyone else at the moment.

Sam looked back at the wreckage, and started to walk closer, casually passing the other officers that walked by and carried out their work processing the scene. Dean followed but took his time.

The coroner and his team had just finished zipping up the black body bag, and had placed it on a gurney, which they were wheeling away from the other side of the up-turned truck, back to the van. Dean watched as they put it into the back and strapped it in securely before closing the doors. He felt bad that they hadn't arrived here in time to save Steven Brabury's life. He hated when they were too late, but had come to realise that they would never be able to save everyone, no matter how hard they tried. He and Sam alone were not powerful enough to make quite that much difference, nor were any other hunters. All that they could ever hope for, was to do the best that they could. But he still hated when they lost someone.

He sighed then turned his attention to his brother who was kneeling down, looking closely at the more damaged side of the truck. Dean crouched down by his side, just as Sam ran a finger over some of the crumpled up cab. There was a black gooey substance all over the surface. At first glance, most people might have mistaken it for some sort of oil. People who didn't know what _they_ knew.

Sam held his now mucky finger out in front of him as he scrutinized it, "Ectoplasm." he said quietly.

"Yeah and a lot of it. This is one seriously pissed off spirit." Dean said, grimacing at the sight. Whatever the reason this train had started to appear and kill people, it definitely meant business.

"I think we should come back later tonight once the police and everyone have left. We might be able to pick something up on the EMF." Sam suggested.

"Good idea. Though I don't have a friggin' clue how we're supposed to stop the damn thing. Hope you got some more good ideas in that big 'ol brain of your's college boy."

**S U P E R N A T U R A L**

Sam and Dean decided that the first thing they should do was head into town and find themselves suitable accommodation. As it turned out there was only one such place there, which was a small guesthouse called The Oak Tree, which was run by a friendly plump middle-aged woman called Maria Harper. She smiled broadly at them as she unsuspectingly ran their hinky credit card through the machine. It took what seemed like ages for the transaction to be okayed, and for a split second, Dean felt worried in case it declined and informed Mrs Harper that there was a problem. The type of problem that they could do without right now. But, eventually it went through, and Dean signed the slip as D. Hasselhoff. Mrs Harper accepted the slip without noticing that the TV stars name was being mis-used, and happily handed them their room keys.

Their rooms were upstairs, the first and second along to the right in a narrow hallway. Normally they shared a room with twin beds, but as the guesthouse was quite small, it only had single or double rooms, and they really didn't fancy sharing the same bed. Times wern't _quite_ that hard yet. Luckily though, Mrs Harper didn't charge them full price anyway. She'd explained that she'd had some last minute cancellations, and would rather fill the rooms at a discounted price then lose business altogether, which was very good for their hunters budget.

Another nice thing about the guesthouse, was that both Sam and Dean's rooms were very tastefully decorated unlike some of the garish motels that the'd had to stay at in the past. They'd seen all sorts of strange styles of rooms. Well, if you could actually call it style, that is. But here, it was simple subtle cream and brown tones. Uncluttered and clean. Un-varnished pine bed frames hosted extremely comfortable looking mattresses and quilts which were coloured to match their surroundings. There wasn't a lot of spare room, but each still had an en-suite bathroom, much to their relief as it meant pure privacy.

After conferring quickly, Sam and Dean decided to get cleaned up, then go find someplace to eat as they hadn't had anything the whole day. Mrs Harper did cook for her guests, but only at certain times, and they were too late for lunch and still too early for the evening meal and they agreed that they didn't want to wait any longer.

Sam remembered seeing a little diner sandwiched between a couple of grocery and gift stores on their drive through the centre of town, so as soon as they had finished showering and had changed into fresh clothes, they got into the Impala and headed there. It was the only establishment that they'd seen around here anyway, so it wasn't as if they had that many choices really.

**S U P E R N A T U R A L**

After settling into a booth at the far end of the diner, both Sam and Dean decided to order a cheeseburger and fries, and were grateful when they finally arrived at their table about ten minutes later. Dean was disappointed with the waitress that served them, even though she was about the right age, she was very short and dumpy. Her clothes were way too tight given the circumstances, so there were bulges sticking out absolutely everywhere. Even though he was repulsed by her appearance, she seemed to take an instant fancy to him and smiled way more then was actually necessary, and even over-confidently winked at him from the counter as she was pouring them another soda. He forced a polite smile back when he accidently made eye-contact, but ended up looking as if he was suffering from wind and was desperately straining to hold it in. Finally when she'd dropped the sodas at their table and left, he shuddered and Sam sniggered at him and started to open his mouth to say something sarcastic, but Dean spoke first to stop him, "Dude, don't even go there..."

"I wasn't going to say a thing," lied Sam as he watched Dean take a big bite of his burger, "only that I suspect you could get lucky tonight..." he sniggered.

"Do you mind! I'm tryin' to eat here! Saying things like that could make a guy puke!" Dean snapped. Nether the less, he carried on chomping his way through the rest of the burger, though he avoided looking anywhere in the direction that the waitress was in while they finished their meal.

**S U P E R N A T U R A L**

Sam soon realised that Dolly Hancock wasn't a bit dotty. In actual fact, she was _very_ dotty. From the moment that he and Dean had knocked on her door, it was all down hill to the cuckoo's nest.

She'd been polite enough to let them in with a smile on her face once they had introduced themselves and made it clear that they were very interested in hearing her account of what had happened on the night of Ray Hendersen's death, including details of the 'vanishing train' that nobody else wanted to listen to. But, she was dressed rather bizarrely. She was wearing a pink shower cap, a tatty white bathrobe, and yellow rain boots, and she was accesserised with a brightly coloured bead necklace, and wore big ugly rings on most of her fingers. Sam could see from his expression, that Dean was struggling to process this more then he was, but they both managed to keep their thoughts to themselves.

Dolly ushered them into her living room, where Sam and Dean planted themselves on a crocheted doily covered couch, which had mis-matched, thread bare cushions placed messily upon it. As they were settling, Dolly made her way into another room, which turned out to be her kitchen, then returned a couple of minutes later carrying a tray with a tea pot and three cups, and set it down on the coffee table in front of them.

"Help yourselves boys." Dolly said happily and gestured a frail hand towards the tray.

"Thank you." Sam said politely as he reached out for one of the cups, Dean doing the same. Before either of them could lift the tea pot, Dolly took it by the handle and moved the spout close to Sam's cup and tipped it up. Sam felt concerned as her hand was shaking rather a lot, he didn't really feel like getting hot drink spilt over him.

But he needn't have worried. Nothing came out of the pot, it was empty.

He sat there feeling puzzled as Dolly moved on to Dean's cup, and poured him an identical cup of non-existent tea, completely unaware that there was anything wrong. She then set the tea pot back on to the tray, then sat herself down on an armchair opposite them.

Dean looked down at the empty cup, then across to Sam. The same _'what the hell?'_ look was on both of their faces now.

Dolly was still smiling contentedly at them, and Sam realised that he needed to break the silence that had fallen thickly over the room. He coughed slightly to clear his throat first, "So Mrs. Hancock," he began.

"_Ms._ Hancock. I never married dear." Dolly corrected.

"Sorry, _Ms._ Hancock, could you tell us about what you saw the night of the accident?" Sam continued.

"Oh yes!" she shrieked in a high pitched squeal, "You wanted to know about the train!" she was practically bouncing in her seat like a giddy child.

"Um, yeah." said Dean as he continued to stare into the empty cup in disbelief. Luckily, Dolly didn't seem to notice his puzzlement, and set about telling them her account of the events on the tragic night.

"Well, she started, "I was out walking with Mr. Charles at the time..."

"_Mr. Charles?_" Sam interrupted, "You mean, someone else saw what happened?"

"Yes of course. He was very restless that night, so we got out of bed and went outside. I thought it might do him some good to get some fresh air."

"We'll need to speak with him too. Is he here now?" Dean asked, finally releasing his attention off the cup.

"Yes. Hes always here." Dolly answered.

"Well, uh, could you get him for us?" Sam asked.

Suddenly Dolly rose from her seat and made her way over to a closed door on the far right side of the room and opened it ajar. While her back was turned, both Sam and Dean set the cups back onto the tray and exchanged weary glances.

"Mr. Charles!" Dolly suddenly yelled through the door causing Sam and Dean to look in her direction. "Mr. Charles! Could you please come here!"

Suddenly something small and fluffy ran through the door, past Dolly's feet and bounded half way through the room before doing a u-turn at great speed, finally coming to a standstill in front of the coffee table, and began to bark at an irritating pitch.

"Here he is!" Dolly said happily as she made her way over to the shaggy Lhasa Apso pup, bending down to stroke his little grey furred head when she was close enough. The dog wagged its tail appreciative of the attention that it was being given.

Sam and Dean shared yet another look of astonishment.

"_This_ is Mr. Charles?" Dean said, though it was more of a statement then a question.

"Yes! Isn't he handsome!" Dolly exclaimed as she sat herself back down, Mr. Charles following at her heels, then sitting down on the linoleum floor right besides the chair.

"Er yeah, very handsome." Dean said sarcastically. Again, Dolly didn't take any notice or offence, but Mr. Charles glared up at him and let out a slight snarl.

"So anyway, about the train that you saw." Sam continued as if there had been no interruption, "Could you describe it for us? Tell us exactly what it did? Perhaps you noticed it 'shimmering'?"

"Well I can do more then that dear." Dolly replied, "I can tell you _which_ train it is, or at least was."

"You can?" Dean asked looking at Sam.

"Yes, it was the Number Five, but folks around here used to take to calling it the Thunder Express. My daddy drove it he did."

Sam and Dean looked stunned about this new piece of information. "Your father was the driver?" Sam asked, the surprise breaking out in his tone.

"He sure was." Dolly suddenly looked quite upset, "He'd even promised me that he'd let me ride up in the engine with him one day, in fact, that was what we were gonna do the very same day that...that..." she suddenly trailed off.

"That _what_?" asked Dean.

Dolly didn't answer, instead, she stood up from her chair again, and wondered absentmindedly into the kitchen, closing the door behind her as she went.

"Dude," Dean whispered to his brother, "This really isn't helping much, I mean, shes nuttier than squirrel turd. How can we take her at her word?"

"Well I guess we have to do some research, see if there really was a Thunder Express and if her father really was the driver. I think theres a library back in town so we can check through the records and see what we can find." replied Sam as he tried to stay positive, after all, this was their only lead so far, even if its validity was questionable.

Suddenly, the kitchen door swung open and Dolly made her way back into the room holding a plate out in front of her. She approached Dean, holding the plate towards him. "Would you like some fairy cake dear?" she asked. The smile had now returned to her face as she made her offering.

Dean stared eyes wide open at the plate. Like the tea pot, it was empty. Maybe it was a good thing that Dolly had never married, poor bastard would have died from starvation _and _dehydration. He wasn't even sure how the dog was still breathing in a situation like this.

"Er, thank you, but I'm kinda watching my figure at the moment so I think I'll pass." he smiled to keep up the facade, but Dolly suddenly looked disappointed at his refusal. But that was okay. He knew just what to say to cheer her up again, "But y'know, Sammy here, he just loves fairy cake."

Sam scowled at Dean as Dolly moved the empty plate to him instead. He paused for an awkward moment, not quite sure what he should do.

"Well c'mon young man, you look as though you need feeding up!" Dolly said in a motherly way.

Sam contemplated the plate once again, then in his politeness, decided not to upset their host. He pretended to take a slice of cake from the plate as convincingly as possible, ignoring the fact that Dean was sniggering at him. He knew that this was pay back for the comment about the waitress in the diner earlier.

He hoped that Dolly would turn away from him so that he could simply drop the act, but she continued to stare at him, waiting for him to 'eat' it. So he had no choice. He had to be seen to bite into it, well the thin air that is. He did this reluctantly, then pretended to chew on a piece. "Oh this is just lovely. The best cake I've ever tasted." he said finally, not wanting to hurt her feelings. It worked. Dolly was overjoyed.

After a few moments, finally, Dolly turned and went back to her seat. Sam breathed a sign of relief that he was able to stop 'eating', and shot Dean a '_bite me'_ look, which was responded to with another snigger.

As Dolly settled back into her chair, Mr. Charles suddenly let out a yap, got up from where he was sat, then plodded over to the couch, stopping right besides Dean's feet where he proceeded to stare at him.

"So Dolly is there anything else that you can tell us?" Sam asked.

"Well, I don't know dear, I mean there it was, the Thunder Express just exactly as I remembered it from when I was younger. Then the next moment I saw that man in his car. It came right for him it did, smashed right into the side. Then, it kinda flickered for a minute, then disappeared completely. Then that's when I came back into the house and called the sheriff."

Sam suddenly noticed that Mr. Charles had reared up, his front paws were on Dean's legs, and he was subtly trying to move him off of him without calling attention to the fact that he really wanted to use more excessive force. In fact, the dog was suddenly quite attracted to his brother, well, at least his lower limbs. Dean was grimacing as he tried shaking his legs slightly to get free. But the dog clung on as it moved in a disturbing way against him.

Sam managed to suppress a laugh. _Justice_, he thought.

"Um, y'know, I think we have everything that we need for now Ms. Hancock, so we should really get going." Dean said his tone uncomfortable through his gritted teeth as he tried to out-stare the over friendly canine.

"Oooo! Just one minute!" Dolly screeched as she shot up out of her chair and headed back to the kitchen.

Now that she had left the room, Dean took more evasive action. He kicked his legs out fast, sending Mr. Charles flying through the air, and landing with a thump on the floor. Dazed, he stood up yelping, then scurried off into the other room.

"Ha!" Dean said.

Sam was about to say something to his brother, when Dolly returned.

"Here you are young man," she said, "I thought you might like to take some cake home with you as you liked it so much." she handed Sam a cling-filmed empty paper plate.

"Uh, thanks." Sam said, taking the plate. He'd certainly never had an afternoon tea like this before, that was for sure.

**S U P E R N A T U R A L**

"I can't believe I just had to eat make-believe fairy cake." Sam said as he and Dean got into the Impala, both glad to have finally escaped the house. He quickly tossed the paper plate into the back seat.

"Yeah, well at least you didn't get your leg..._violated_ by that mangy mutt." Dean snapped as he tried to shake off the experience.

"That _was_ pretty funny!" Sam chuckled.

"You are such a bitch bro. Surprised he didn't go for you instead."

Sam ignored the comment, deciding that it was about time that they got back to business. "Anyway, I think we should head over to the library now and find out as much as we can. If Dolly is right about which train is doing all of this, we need to know as much as we can in order to work out how we're gonna stop it."

"Okay." said Dean, now going into serious mode, "Then we'll head back over here when it gets dark and nobodys about so we can check out the road with our gear."

"Sounds like a plan." Sam agreed.

Dean turned his key in the ignition, and they headed back into town, putting Dolly and her bizarre food and beverages behind them.

**S U P E R N A T U R A L**

It turned out that the library was an extension of the church building, and much to Sam's relief, was equipped with up to date computers loaded with the local history and records. This meant that they could search for everything they needed with the click of a button, sparing them the gruelling task of sifting through individual documents one by one which would eat into their precious time.

He and Dean sat down at one of the computers, and Sam took charge of doing the typing. The first thing that they did a search for, was the Thunder Express. Sure enough, a result came through.

Sam read the text out loud. "Tragedy struck on May 11th 1957, when Texas locomotive no. 5 suffered a boiler explosion which engulfed it in flames. None of the eighty five passengers and crew aboard survived. Local residents of Jasper were left shocked after such a mass loss of life. After a brief investigation, the terrible incident was put down to a sudden change of pressure and temperature in the boiler, although there wasn't enough of the wreckage left to confirm this for certain.

"The steam train, which was better known as the _Thunder Express_, had been only two miles from it's last stop at the end of the line when the accident occurred. Among those to die, was Alfred Hancock, the train's driver who lived locally, coincidentally on the stretch of track where the incident happened.

"Shortly afterwards, the decision was made to divert the railroad to the next county from the other side of Jasper, and in 1960, the un-used track was removed, including that which ran past Hancock's property where the accident in '57 happened."

"Woah." said Dean, "Eighty five people died. Guess that rules out salting and burning their bones."

"Well that wouldn't be an option anyway," Sam said as he scrolled further down the page, "it says here that most of the bodies were completely destroyed in the fire, so they kinda already got burned."

"Well, how the hell we gonna stop this thing?"

Sam sighed heavily, "I don't know. But something tells me that theres more to this _accident_. I mean, so far the spirit of the passengers combined with the train, seem to be acting out of vengence, like Steinberg, Hendersen and Bradbury were specifically targeted. Since they were killed, people have driven in and out of town, including us, and nothings happened."

Sam then tried yet another search, this time he typed in the names of the recent victims. Various results came up, showing general records of the men, including some articles about Bradbury's charity events. They even managed to find out that all of the victims were the same age. But one other page caught Sam's attention the most.

Again he read the page aloud. "Local residents attended the funeral of Mark Livingston, who after suffering a long battle with mental illness, took his own life. Paying their respects, were friends Steven Bradbury, Ray Henderson, Larry Steinberg, Adrian Cole and the town's sheriff, Harvey Branscombe, amongst others.

"Livingston had lived alone at his late parents estate here in Jasper, and was found on the evening of September 25th 2001, after neighbours grew concerned and called the sheriffs department when they hadn't seen him for a few days.

"Mr. Livingston was heir to his late fathers fortune when he and his mother died in a tragic car accident in 1998. Mark Livingstone Senior, had run a successful business from his warehouse in town.

"A local history buff, Mark had been particularly interested in the 1957 tragedy, where steam train the _Thunder Express_, suffered a boiler explosion which killed all those on board."

"Well that's weird. A friend of the victims, who just happened to be interested in the Thunder Express wastin' himself." Dean said.

"Yeah," Sam agreed, "maybe its worth checking up on him some more."

"Another thing, If the Thunder Express _did_ target Steinberg, Hendersen and Bradbury specifically, I mean, why? They must have been like eleven years old in '57. What could little kids have done to piss off spirits this much?"

"There _has_ to be a connection between them. Its just we're not seeing it yet. We're gonna have to dig deeper on this."

"And why now after all these years since the crash?"

"Well," said Sam as he loaded a map of the area from 1957 on the screen, "I remember that Deputy Denholm said that they were doing construction work on the other side of town." He pointed to the area on the map, "The old rail road ran through where they are digging up before it curved around the edge of town towards Dolly's house. All that work must have awoken the spirit somehow."

He typed in another search to see if it brought up any information on the work that was currently being carried out. "Ah, see. Some of the original track was cemented over rather then being took up properly. It must have ran across that road aswell. The construction crew would have had to cut through and probably removed the rest of it as they've been working."

"Okay, that would explain it." said Dean as he eyed the screen.

Dean leaned back in his chair and stretched, as he did this, he tilted his head towards the window. "Well its gettin' dark out, maybe we should head out with the EMF."

"Good idea." said Sam.

**S U P E R N A T U R A L**

Sam and Dean left the churche's library and set off towards the scene of the killings. Luckily it was so quiet on the road that evening, that they didn't even pass another car.

Dean parked the Impala up just past Dolly's house, and they walked the rest of the short distance, then stopped, where according to the map they'd seen at the library, the rail road track used to be. Dean held the EMF out and paced about slowly to see if it would pick anything up, while Sam looked carefully down at the ground to see if the spirit had left any physical signs. He walked by torchlight for a while across the baron field, then he spotted a couple of tracks on the dry ground. He kneeled to take a closer look.

"Hey Dean!" he yelled, "Come and take a look at this!"

Dean hurried over to join his brother and looked down at the tracks himself, surveying them carefully, "They're the right width for a train. Its like they've been burnt into the ground."

Sam ran a finger over part of one of the tracks, making his finger black.

Suddenly a bright glare of light from the road caught their attention. They looked across to see a car approaching slowly on the road, on it's way out of town. They turned their torches off so that they would hopefully not be seen snooping around, and watched quietly.

The car's headlights suddenly dimmed then started to flicker, and they could hear the engine spluttering. Then the EMF started beeping crazily in Dean's hand.

"That can't be good." said Dean.

Sam leapt up, just as a whistle sounded in the distance. He and Dean automatically looked further across the field where a patch of what looked like mist suddenly started billowing out.

"Dean! Its here! Its gonna kill whoever is in that car!" with that, Sam started running towards the car at top speed whilst Dean ran towards their own car to get their weapons.

As Sam approached the car, he could see that the driver was trying frantically to escape his metal prison, but the doors wouldn't open. Sam tried the door handles himself but they wouldn't budge.

"Cover your face!" Sam shouted, then turned elbowing the window hard, causing the glass to shatter everywhere.

"Help me please!" the frightened man inside begged.

Just then, the whistle sounded again, and Sam could now see the train clearly. It flickered a few times, but grew stronger in its presence the closer it was getting and it was heading straight for them. The ground was rumbling as the train glided across the tracks which once stood under it. They were running out of time.

Sam turned back to face the man in the car, desperately trying to clear the loose glass from the window so that it would be safe for him to pull the man out. Another whistle.

Leaning into the car, Sam grabbed the older man by the arms and started pulling, but he was heavy, making it hard work. "Dean!" he yelled into the night as the desperate struggle to free man from machine continued.

Shots rang out one after the other from Dean's gun, but the rock salt wasn't having any effect on the ghostly train at all, it carried on at full speed towards the car.

Sam heaved with all of his might until he'd managed to get the upper half of the mans trembling body through the window, but just as he was beginning to get somewhere he felt something pull him away.

The next thing he knew, he was tumbling onto the ground a few feet away, Dean still holding onto him as they rolled away in the dirt.

They looked up just in time to see the train hit the car with a force that vibrated through the very air. Everything, including whatever remained of the man inside, was shunted with a great force part way down the invisible track, metal grinding with an ear piercing screech, before it got sent flying into the air. Pieces of the debris sprayed out everywhere, then began showering down hitting the ground with a clatter.

The huge train then flickered wildly, the steam blowing in swirls, while another whistle sounded out. Then finally, the engine and carriages disappeared right in front of their eyes.

Breathlessly, Dean looked at Sam, "Dude, I think we're gonna need a bigger gun."


	3. PART THREE OF THREE

After calling 911, an entourage of police cars arrived with an ambulance at the scene illuminating the night with flashes of red and blue lights. The first person to approach Sam and Dean was deputy Denholm who noticed that Sam had injured his elbow, the fresh blood soaked heavily into his jacket. He immediately sent him over to one of the ambulances where one of the medics got him to sit on the back and began to attend to the wound and bandaged it up.

A deluge of activity began all around them as the car wreckage was surveyed, and the coroner pulled up soon after a phone call had alerted him that there was a pick-up. Dean stayed close to his brother while his wound was dressed. Many thoughts were running through his mind, most of all, what in the hell were they going to tell everyone about what they saw happen? If they told them the truth about seeing the Thunder Express, they'd think they had gone as mad as Dolly.

"That should do it." the medic said to Sam after he had finished attending to him.

"Thank you." Sam smiled gratefully.

The medic then left Sam and Dean and wondered away to help everyone else at the scene. When he was safely out of ear shot, Sam sighed and looked at his brother with sorrowed eyes and a heavy heart. "I nearly got him out Dean." he said quietly, "Just a few more seconds. That's all I would have needed."

"Yeah well a few more seconds later and you would have been in a body bag too and I wasn't about to let that happen Sammy." Dean spoke in his serious '_I've gotta look out for my little brother_' tone.

Sam sighed and rested his head against the inside of the door, "We really havn't gotten far with this. How many more people are gonna die because of this thing?"

Dean paused for a moment before giving his reply, "You know what? Nobody else is gonna die. I've had it up to here with this friggin' train and I'm gonna stop the damn thing!" he said this optimistically, but deep down he still had no idea how exactly he would be able to do that. The combined spirits of all the passengers were making this thing a strong sonofabitch.

"Fellas," said the familiar voice of the deputy as he approached them from out of the night, "I'm afraid we're gonna have to ask you some questions about what happened out here tonight."

Sam shot Dean a quick look, "Er...yeah, we understand."

"Well, Sheriff Branscombe would like to deal with this personally, so if you don't mind going up to the station, hes already there waitin'."

"_Now?_" Dean asked. He had hoped that they might get at least the rest of the night to concoct some version of the story that would actually be suitable to tell everyone.

"We think that would be best while the details are still fresh in your minds." Denholm continued.

"Then I guess we'll get going then." Dean said trying not to let the reluctance show in his tone as Sam slowly stood up and joined him.

"Right, well I'm sure you can find your way there then, so I'll be getting back to things here."

"Yeah. Thank you deputy."

As deputy Denholm walked off to rejoin the various activities that were being carried out around the accident scene, Sam and Dean made their way back to the Impala.

Once they were in, Dean rubbed his face in both hands, "Dude, this is crazy, what the friggin hell are we gonna tell this sheriff?"

"That we didn't see anything," Sam joked.

"Yeah like that would work!" with that, Dean slotted his key into the ignition and started up the engine, "Ahh baby! What would I do without your beautiful purr!"

S-U-P-E-R-N-A-T-U-R-A-L

Sheriff Harvey Branscombe paced up and down in the space between his desk and the back wall which made Sam and Dean fidget uncomfortably in their chairs as they watched him and waited for whatever questions he was getting ready to fire at them.

Branscombe was a fairly tall man who walked with a confident grace, his thumbs tucked into his belt. He wore his star with obvious pride, the achievement of his many years of law enforcement. His huge stetson hat left his face under it's shadow, only his huge bristly grey moustache standing out underneath it.

Just as Sam and Dean thought he'd never actually say anything, the sheriff finally spoke, coming to a standstill as he did so. "So you boys are from the paper?"

"Yes sir," Sam answered immediately.

"So can you tell me what it was that you were doing all the way out on that road tonight?"

Sam looked at Dean for help.

"Well," Dean began, "we hit a spot of car trouble. See my girl, she might still be pretty to look at, but shes gettin' old in years." he lied saying this with a grin. He could never help smiling when he thought of that car. Sometimes he still couldn't believe that his dad had actually gifted her to him.

The sheriff gave him a slightly weary look, "Okay. So what exactly did you see happen?" he started to pace again, though not so much this time.

"Well er, we pulled over to look under the hood, tryin' to figure out what was wrong with the car. Then, next thing we know, we hear this huge smash, so we turned around and saw that guys car in bits all over the place." Dean tried to sound as convincing as possible but the sheriff was eying him cautiously.

"You sayin' you didn't see what hit it?"

"Uh...no sir, it was dark."

The sheriff paused for a moment and looked through his window thoughtfully. "And did you hear another vehicle?"

"No." Sam said, though their answers were starting to sound ridiculous now.

"Well how could that possibly be?" sighed the sheriff, he walked away from the window, and sat behind his desk. He lifted his legs up to rest his feet upon the smooth mahogany surface and leaned back, staring accusingly at the brothers. "Seems we got ourselves one heck of a puzzle here, don't it boys?"

"Sure does." Dean responded, verging dangerously close to sarcasm.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door.

"Come on in." the sheriff shouted, and the door was immediately opened. Deputy Denholm walked in, a saddened expression on his face. As he approached the desk, he removed his hat and held it to his chest. His shoulders slumped down heavily as he met the sheriffs gaze. "What is it?" the sheriff asked.

"We just got an ID on the body." Denholm said quietly.

The sheriff straightened out, "Who was it?" he asked him carefully.

"I'm sorry Harv..." he began, "It was Adrian Cole..."

"Dear Lord!" the sheriff looked absolutely stunned, the pain of loss showing clearly on his leathery skin, "Damn it!" he suddenly cursed, jumping to his feet and kicking over the chair that he'd just been sat on, causing Sam, Dean and the deputy to jump out of their skins. For an older man, he was sure aggressive.

"Er...Sheriff," Denholm continued, "maybe we should let these boys go for now, we could finish up tomorrow..."

"Yeah, okay. For all the help they've been anyway..." he mumbled looking out of the window again.

Sam looked at Dean relieved they would not be questioned any further, at least for now anyway. The deputy nodded at them, and they stood up and quickly escaped the confines of the room. They marched out of the front door and got back into the Impala.

"Wait a minute..." Sam suddenly said.

"What?" asked Dean, putting his key in the ignition.

"The guy who died. Deputy Denholm said that it was Adrian Cole."

"_So..._.?"

"So, don't you remember, the article we read. It mentioned him. He was a friend of the other victims, too."

"Huh..." Dean leaned back in his seat, "What the hell is going on in this town Sammy?"

"I don't know Dean. But like you said before, we're going to need more then a gun with rock salt pellets to put a stop to it. But what..."

Suddenly, Dean grinned.

Sam looked at him suspiciously, "What....?"

"Just an idea..." Dean said, "but y'know, I think we should be heading back to the guesthouse and get some sleep for now."

Dean's diversion away from what he was really thinking annoyed Sam, but it was late, well, early in the morning and they were both extremely tired now, so he decided sleep was indeed the best course of action.

S-U-P-E-R-N-A-T-U-R-A-L

As Sam woke up, he stretched with a yawn and looked over at the clock on the night stand. It was 10.30 am. _Damn!_ he thought, _how'd I sleep in so late, and why didn't Dean wake me?_ Sluggishly, he sat up and rubbed his eyes, stimulating some focus back into them.

After a few minutes, he made his way over to the bathroom and took a long relaxing shower. His tense muscles eased as the hot water soaked his skin and cascaded down his body. He ripped off the bandage that had been placed on his elbow the night before and let the water cleanse the wound with a slight sting.

Once he was done, he dressed into fresh clothes. Luckily before coming here, he'd managed to get a load of their clothes to a laundry. He hated it when on occasion, they'd have to re-wear stuff quite a few times first, especially if they had gotten covered with any kind of supernatural gunk.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door.

"Sam?" Dean shouted through the thick oak.

Sam made his way over to the door and unbolted it allowing his brother to enter. "Dude, why did you let me sleep in?" he asked, but was suddenly more interested in what Dean had carried into the room. It was a very odd sight.

In one hand Dean held a carrier bag stuffed full with bottles which were clanking against each other, liquid sloshing slightly inside some, and slung over his right shoulder ,was a huge net full of soccer balls.

Sam watched incredulously as Dean went over to the bed with his strange hoard, and sat on the edge putting everything next to him. "_Soccer balls?_" he asked, raising his eyebrows.

Dean grinned, "Yeah! While you were asleep, I did a little shopping!"

"Dude...what the _hell_...?"

"Well see, while you were off playing Joe College, I picked up a few little er...techniques." he started chuckling to himself as if he was remembering something highly funny.

"Yeah, I already know about you and your female conquests..." Sam started, thinking that Dean had gone off track and was talking about something else.

"No! I'm not talking about _that_! Wash out that filthy mind!" Dean snapped seriously, but then the grin reappeared, "Although your right, there was _that_ too..."

"Dean! The soccer balls?" Sam glowered.

"Oh yeah!" Dean coughed, "Well, dad once showed me how to make a very special kind of..." he lowered his voice for the next words as if paranoid that someone would overhear the conversation, "_explosive device_."

"Out of soccer balls?"

"Yeah, can you believe it? Anyway, thought it might help us when we come up against that sonofabitch train again."

"Dean, bombs won't work against spirits..."

"These ones will, they'll be full of salt. As soon as the suckers go off, _boom!_ An extra big load of salt. They will let off more then we can fire with the shot guns."

"Thats kinda crazy Dean, but...maybe. I don't imagine that it will be enough to disperse it completely though."

"Maybe not, but it might be enough to weaken it. Maybe buy us some time at the crucial moment."

"Yeah, but buy us time for _what_? We still have no idea why its come back haunting that road, or killed those people. We still can't stop it for good unless we can find out some more answers."

"I know, but I thought I'd make the bombs up first and we'll try to figure the mystery out some more later."

Dean then started to unpack the bomb components. Sam watched him make the first one curiously. After cutting a hole into one of the balls, Dean filled it three quarters full of salt, then he pulled a few of the bottles out of the bag. One of them was empty, and the others contained the various chemicals that were needed to make the explosive.

Once Dean had poured and mixed the right amount of chemicals into the empty bottle, he screwed the cap back on, so not to spill any from it, then pushed the bottom of the bottle through the hole that he'd made in the ball, pushing it gently into the salt filling. Once that was done, he pulled some duct tape from the inside pocket of his jacket, and used it to secure the bottle and ball together firmly.

Once complete, Dean held the bomb up proudly, "Ta dah!" The finished product looked to Sam like a very crude version of the TNT bombs from the _Roadrunne_r cartoons.

"That's actually kinda clever." Sam said, suitably impressed.

"What? You thought you were the only one in the family who has brains?"

"No, It's just I never had you figured to be the _MacGyver_ type."

"I have my moments of genius." Dean said smiling, "So anyways, we better get the rest of these things made up and into the car. We'll tear up some strips of rags ready too. We'll unscrew the bottles and put them in when we are ready to light 'em up."

Altogether there were a dozen soccer balls to prepare, but between the two of them, it didn't take long. Once they were finished, Sam and Dean sneaked them out of the guesthouse, and put them all carefully into the Impala's trunk.

Sam still silently wondered if these preparations would be enough to get them ready to face the Thunder Express, but figured that until anything better came up, it would have to do.

S-U-P-E-R-N-A-T-U-R-A-L

Planning to go and meet the Thunder Express face to face would mean that Sam and Dean would need to wait until nightfall to head out. It wasn't like they would be able to risk using the bombs in broad daylight, there was too much chance that someone would see them. Being in possession of bombs was a _very_ difficult thing to explain away. They just desperately hoped that nobody else would get hurt before then.

At lunchtime, they decided to stay at the guesthouse to take advantage of Mrs. Harper's home cooked meals. They sat in a little dining room, which was more of a living room with mis-matched chairs and tables. There was a huge fireplace at one end, which they imagined would be quite inviting when it was lit in the winter months, and the walls were adorned with framed photographs of the town, some so old they were in faded sepia. Stories of the town's history was told throughout the miscellany of stills, the faces of those who once lived here, captured forever in time.

Mrs. Harper brought Sam and Dean chicken pot pies with steamed vegetables which smelled absolutely delicious, and tasted even better. It was a nice treat to eat something that wasn't either fried or from out of a carton. Sam had often wondered if this was the type of meal that mom would have cooked for them if she hadn't been killed, and himself, Dean and dad had never needed to become hunters. Would they have sat around the table together, talking about what type of days they had each had, smiling and laughing together in all the right places? Sadly, there would never be an answer to that question.

As they finished eating, Mrs. Harper entered the room again and headed in their direction. She was looking worried. _Very_ worried. Someone followed her in. It was an angry looking sheriff Branscombe.

Sam and Dean quickly exchanged glances before turning their attention back onto the encroaching pair.

Mrs. Harper stepped nervously aside to make room for the sheriff. "Seems we've got ourselves a slight problem fellas." he boomed as he stepped in front of Sam and Dean's table assuming a pose full of authority, "You see, I took the liberty of calling the Tribune. They tell me they ain't never heard of you two and havn't even sent any reporters out here. So do you mind telling me exactly what it is that your playin' at lyin' to folks like that?" he glared at them with intimidating eyes.

"Er...it's just...we..." Dean stammered trying to find the rights words.

"We're students from out of state," Sam intercepted, "we were out here doing a study on the history of the town. We are sorry that we lied, but we thought that we would find out more if we said that we were reporters. In our experience, we students don't always get taken seriously, we really didn't mean any harm." he wore the most innocent expression that he could pull off under pressure.

"That don't explain it all!" the sheriff retaliated, "You were asking about those accidents! What in the blazes has that got to do with the town's history?" his face was starting to go so red with fury that Sam thought that the man might either burst or have a heart attack at any moment.

"Well, its just..." Dean began.

"Just _what_?" yelled the sheriff.

"We are particularly interested in the history of railroads and we had been told that there was an accident involving a train on that road many years ago...a train called the Thunder Express"

Sam sat there frozen. Why was Dean telling the sheriff this?

The sheriffs expression changed. A mixture of disgust and sadness radiated out. "You know what I want you two to do? I want you to get the hell outta my town before I throw you in the pen!" he punched the table, "In fact, I'm gonna wait right here for you to pack up your trash, and I'll see you out of town myself!" he was now shaking as the anger continued to simmer within him.

Sam and Dean were backed into a corner. They had no choice but to do as the sheriff said. They got up leaving him waiting, and returned to their rooms and got their belongings together. It didn't take long and they were soon making their way back down the stairs, the sheriff waiting at the bottom.

"They all settled up Maria?" he called to Mrs. Harper.

"Yes. Fortunately they paid for a few days in advance Harvey." she answered from the other side of her counter.

"Now that we're gonna be leaving early, do we get a refund on the rest?" Dean asked sarcastically.

"Shut the hell up and get outside punk!" the sheriff yelled.

"I guess not..." Dean muttered under his breath as they made their way outside.

S-U-P-E-R-N-A-T-U-R-A-L

Much to the relief of Sam and Dean, Sheriff Branscombe didn't go near the Impala. For a moment Sam was sure that he'd want to check the trunk, which would have been a disaster for them. If he'd seen the bombs and weapons that were stashed away in there, they would have been totally screwed.

As it was, the sheriff climbed into his cruiser and started the engine. He idled there until Dean had driven ahead of him slightly, then followed closely behind.

"Now what?" Sam sighed as they drove through the town. He kept glancing in the wing mirror as the sheriff trailed them.

"We come back later, just like we planned. I'm not about to let Sheriff Chuckles out there, get in our way." Dean was focused on the road ahead, but his expression reflected the determination that he felt to deal with this thing once and for all.

"Yeah well lets just hope that he doesn't catch us out here." as Sam said this, he noticed that they were fast approaching said stretch of road. They passed by Dolly's house which is when he looked in the mirror again.

As Dean was concentrating on the road, he didn't notice the same thing that Sam had. Sheriff Branscombe slowed his cruiser right down before passing Dolly's. In fact, he braked _too_ quickly then, and proceeded to make an extremely sharp U-turn and headed back into town.

Sam slouched back into his seat, "Huh, that's strange." he said feeling puzzled.

"What?" Dean asked.

"The sheriff. Hes stopped following us. The way he braked and turned before Dolly's house..."

"Well I'm glad hes not up our ass any more." Dean said happily.

A couple of moments passed by, but something was really beginning to nag away at Sam.

Then it came to him, an epiphany of sorts.

"Dean! Stop the car!" he shouted.

Dean slowed down and pulled into the side of the road, "What is it?" he asked.

"He knows Dean! Hes known all along!"

"Who and what?" Dean asked, confused.

"The sheriff. He knows the truth about the Thunder Express! He knows that's what killed the others and I'm betting that means he knows why!"

"Woah! Wait a minute! How do you figure that Einstein?"

"He was supposed to be running us out of town but stopped just before he got to Dolly's and turned around. They way he did it...real quick, erratic even. And it didn't come to me until now, but did you notice, that he never went to the scene of the killings? A little strange for the towns sheriff not to be involved in something that big. He stayed away....because he knew he'd get killed if he strayed onto that area of road..."

"And," said Dean as he came to realise his brother was right, "hes about the same age as the other victims..."

"Oh my god, Dean! We have to go back and talk to him."

"Dude, hes not exactly going to appreciate us going back there...you heard him, hes got it in for us big time. Besides, he obviously knows he can't leave town, so he won't. He'll stay there, live happily ever after, blah, blah, blah. No biggie."

"Dean, something might happen one day, a situation where he can't avoid trying to leave town...he can't stay there forever." Sam sighed, "Besides, the people who died...their spirits would be stuck there waiting for him. They deserve to move on and be put to rest." he looked at his brother, eyes begging him to do the sensible thing.

"Oh okay already!" Dean gave in, "But I still say we wait until later, give the guy time to cool off a little first..."

Sam smiled. He knew Dean couldn't resist playing the role of hero. Again.

S-U-P-E-R-N-A-T-U-R-A-L

Just after it had begun to get dark, Sam and Dean were headed back towards Jasper. They had spent the rest of that afternoon in a seedy little bar they'd found a few miles away, and chugged back a couple of beers to pass the time.

As usual, the two inevitable things had both happened whilst they were there. Dean had won a nice little bundle cheating at pool, then had some randy little blonde entertain him for a while; until her boyfriend showed up. That's when they had had to leave. Quickly. Sam was wondering if the guy was still trying to follow them even now.

As they neared the haunted strip of road, they could see Dolly's house growing bigger and bigger the closer they got. The moon was shining bright overhead, lighting the surroundings slightly. It was the only way that they even noticed the lone figure walking down the middle of the road just by the house.

Sam squinted, trying to see who it was, "Dean! Its the sheriff!"

Dean accelerated. If they didn't reach the man in time, if he took too many steps further...

Once they were close enough, Dean slammed on the brake and skidded to a halt just inches away from the dazed sheriff.

Sam opened the door and leapt out of the car, "Sheriff! Don't come any further, the Thunder Express, it'll kill you!" Sam spluttered as he rushed towards him.

The sheriff looked different now. The stern hard look from earlier on that day had long vanished, replaced by a defeated expression, "H...how...did you know?" he stammered softly, his eyes deep with sadness. He stopped still in front of Sam.

"I guess you could say that its our job to know." Sam said softly.

"Look," Dean said as he joined them, "how we know about all of this isn't the issue right now. What's important, is that we stop this thing for good, before it kills you."

"Well I was thinkin' that lettin' it get me might be the easier option." the sheriff said quietly.

"No! We were too late to save the others, we ain't gonna lose you to this friggin thing too!" Dean shouted, "Besides, we got to let the spirits of all the people who died on the train pass over..."

Sam looked at his brother, proud that he was doing the right thing even though he'd thought that the sheriff was a complete pain in the ass.

Sheriff Branscombe looked from Dean to Sam, then back to Dean, "This is crazy...how can it even be possible? This time a few weeks ago, I was completely unaware that this kind of thing really existed. Ghosts ain't supposed to be real..."

"Oh their real all right, and this train, the people who died in it, they are seriously pissed off." Dean continued.

The sheriff shook his head in amazement, "So you two, you can get rid of ghosts?" he asked for one last confirmation.

"Yeah." Sam answered.

"You mean like the _Ghostbusters_?" the sheriff asked

"Kind of," said Dean amused, "only without the dodgy outfits and crappy theme tune. Oh, and we drive a more classy car..."

"And what the hells gonna get rid of this train?" the sheriff asked.

"Well, that kinda depends on you," said Sam carefully, "You need to tell us everything you know about the Thunder Express. If we could figure out _why_ it killed the others and..."

"I know why it killed them!" the sheriff snapped, "And I know why it wants me too!"

"You need to tell us, please." Sam looked imploringly at the broken man who stood before him.

The sheriff sighed heavily, walked over to the Impala and leaned on it's hood for support. "We didn't mean for it to happen...we were just kids who made a dumb mistake..."

"It's okay, you can tell us," said Sam sensing that there was still some reluctance on the sheriffs part to tell the story.

Sheriff Branscombe took in a big breathe before continuing, Sam and Dean listening intently, "We were all friends, me, Larry, Adrian, Steven and Ray. Lived here all our lives. This one day back in '57, a new kid moved into town with his family, Mark Livingston.

"See Mark, he wanted to hang out with us, be our friend, but we used to tease him seeing that he was an outsider and all. His daddy had brought one of the warehouses the other side of town and was a making himself a pretty penny. We dfidn't take to well to rich folk.

"Anyway, Mark was hell bent at tryin' to impress us and sometimes we'd let him keep on tryin' just for the sake of it. This one day he came up to us all excited, said he'd took somethin' from the warehouse. Next thing we knew, he showed us what was in this big bag that he'd had slung over his shoulder. See it turns out that his daddy made and distributed fireworks. Mark had taken this one huge rocket..."

Sam and Dean looked at each other quickly.

"We all sneaked out here this one day to let it off. We were gonna scare Dolly Hancock with it. Anyway, Mark set it up over there," he pointed to a spot on the ground just up ahead, "but the ground was uneven, so he put it down between the tracks so it'd sit straight..." he was starting to struggle with the words now, "H...he lit the fuse and we, we went and hid by the Hancocks fence, and waited...but...but we heard the train whistle...we'd forgotten that it was due to come through.

"It was too late to go back to the rocket, the fuse was burning so fast, we'd have never made it...so we just stayed where we were, hoping...praying that it would go up before the Express got here, but...it didn't. Instead, it went off just as the engine passed over. Then...t..there was this huge explosion. The train it...it was in flames. It spread so quickly. There wasn't anything we could do..." tears started to streak down his cheeks, glittering in the moonlight, "We decided to run...like the cowards we were. But before we got away, another small explosion rang out from one of the carriages and somthin' flew through the air and landed by our feet...it was the blackened remains of a little girls dolly...we killed a child, we killed them all..."

It was a few moments until he could compose himself enough to continue sharing the painful memories.

"We ran home then...and we made a pact," he sobbed," that we'd never tell a living soul about what we'd done, that it'd be our secret, _forever..._" he looked Sam in the eye, "And it came back for us, to get revenge."

Sam felt emotional at the tragic story, "It was an accident. You wern't to know that was going to happen."

"Yeah well apparently everyone aboard thought otherwise, that's why its here now, right?"

"Sometimes spirits don't always see things black and white," Sam began, "they can't always distinguish between accidents and..."

"I should just let it, let _them_ finish me off! I deserve it!" the sheriff interrupted, shouting like his old self. He was extremely angry with himself now. "Or maybe...maybe Mark had the right idea..."

"Thats why he killed himself, isn't it?" Dean asked.

"Yeah. He always blamed himself, more so then the rest of us. Said if he'd never took the damn rocket..." some fresh tears dripped from his eyes and he wiped at them with his sleeve, "He couldn't handle knowin' the truth no more it'd drivin' him insane, so he got his ticket out of here..." he sighed, "As for me, I got into law enforcement, thought that if I could save some lives, it might make up for what I did. Didn't even marry for fear I'd might get so close enough to someone that I might let the truth slip...its been so lonely livin' like this."

"Look, I'm sorry that you've lost your friends sheriff, but letting it kill you isn't the right thing to do. If you feel guilty, then maybe you could tell everyone what really happened that day. Back then, you chose to run away from it, but now, you have the chance to do the brave thing." Sam said, "You have lived with this for long enough."

"Yeah, and look where its gotten you. It caught up with you anyway." added Dean.

"How'd we stop it then?" the sheriff asked.

Sam looked at Dean, "We er, havn't quite figured that out yet."

"We've kinda come to a dead end with this at the mo..." Dean suddenly paused, and Sam noticed his expression change.

"What is it Dean?" Sam asked.

"Dead end..." Dean repeated, though more to himself.

The sheriff and Sam shared a look as they waited for Dean to let them in on whatever it was that he was thinking.

"Sam, do you remember the story that Bobby told us once about the phantom hitchhiker in Kentucky?"

"Yeah, so?" Sam asked confused.

"_Phantom hitchhiker_?" the sheriff asked bewildered.

"Yeah. You see this guy was murdered out on a highway there, and every year after, he haunted it. See he never caused any harm to anyone, but frightened anyone who passed through. One year Bobby went down there hopin' to try and help this guy to move on. Turns out all he'd wanted was to get to the next town, which is where he'd been headin' to on the night when he was murdered. So Bobby gave him a ride...soon as they got to the town, the hitchhiker passed over. No one ever saw him again."

"That's great Dean, but what's that got to do with any of this?" Sam asked.

"Well I figure those people who where on the Thunder Express are pissed for a couple of reasons, one, they didn't appreciate the sheriff here and his friends putting an end to their journey, and two, they never made it to to their final stop."

"So....?" Sam muttered.

"So, I think maybe its about time that they did. Its just a couple of miles away. Originally it was the end of the line."

Sam thought about this for a moment, "Dean, you really think that could work, I mean, they are out for revenge..."

"I don't know, but it's the best idea I've got, unless of course you can think of anything better..."

"Saying that we actually tried this, how would we even get the train to go there?"

"We drive there, get it to follow us."

"But Dean, it won't follow you and me."

"I know. That's why we're gonna use bait to draw it out." Dean looked at the sheriff when he said this.

"Dean!" Sam snapped, "We were trying to _save_ his life, _not_ put him in the firing line, remember?"

The sheriff looked at Sam, "Hes right kid, it's the only way. Hell, I was about to let it kill me before you two showed up tonight anyway. And like you said, Its about time that I did the brave thing."

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Sam was having serious doubts about this new plan, but Dean had had a point, there was really nothing else left to try, though that didn't make him feel any better about putting the sheriff's life at risk. There was also something else that was troubling him slightly. "Dean, just one thing that I've been wondering about. When we saw Adrian Cole get killed, his car froze up first. What if the same happens to us?" he asked.

"I've been giving that some thought. If we throw the salt bombs at regular intervals, I reckon that it wont have the power to do that to us, even though it will still be completely visible. It wont take us long to get to where we are heading, so as long as we can keep it up until then."

"I just hope that you are right about this Dean, if it goes wrong, it will kill us too. Its not gonna stop going after the sheriff just because we are in the same car..."

"Yeah well, thats a risk we're gonna have to take Sammy. It wouldn't be the first time that we've been in danger tryin' to save someone else."

"I guess, but it makes me wonder when our luck will finally run out, and that if next time, will be the last time."

Dean looked at Sam seriously, "Sam, if I didn't think that we would make it through all this stuff, I wouldn't do it, and I definitely wouldn't put you in danger if I didn't think that we had half a chance." he slapped Sam playfully across the back, "Just have a little faith bro. It's gonna be a long time before anything happens to us." he smiled quickly.

"I hope so," said Sam.

"You know so!" Dean coughed, "Anyway, enough of this mushy crap, we've got a job to do." with that he opened the trunk of the Impala and started to take out the homemade bombs one by one.

"Its a good thing that you two are helpin' me out otherwise I'd have to arrest you for all that." the sheriff said as he gawked in astonishment at the arsenal.

"Hey sheriff, your cruiser got a sun roof?" Dean asked ignoring the last comment.

"Yeah, why?"

"It would be better if we drove that. Sam could throw the bombs out as we go, plus we'd be better off with the four wheeled drive. Might hit some bumpy spots driving over the field."

"Sure, whatever you thinks best." the sheriff said as he tossed Dean his keys. Dean then ran to the cruiser and drove it closer. As soon as he was parked, he and Sam began loading the bombs into the back seat.

"Okay. Sheriff, you sit shot gun. I'll drive." Dean said this with a worrying grin, but they all piled into the cruiser as directed.

Once in the back, Sam opened up the sun roof. Luckily it opened up wide, and he was able to get the top half of his body out of it comfortably. He dropped back inside and began to unscrew the bottle lids from the bombs, and stuff the rags into the top so that they were all ready to go. Then holding one of the bombs, he pushed his upper half through the sun roof again, getting ready.

"Sam? you all set?" Dean called to him.

"Yeah." Sam said un-confidently.

Dean started the cruiser and drove very slowly toward the danger zone but turned to face across the field just before. "Okay, here goes..." he mumbled as he started to drive directly where the tracks would have originally been before applying the brake.

All three of them waited, ears listening carefully, eyes darting across the dark field to the back of the cruiser. A cold breeze whipped Sam's hair around his face, when at the same moment, the first whistle sounded out. "Its here!" he yelled.

Dean held his foot ready at the gas pedal. _Let it get a little closer_...

Sam had a magnificent view off the Thunder Express as it materialised on the invisible track a few miles behind the cruiser. The steam spew out angrily as it rushed urgently towards them. He pulled a lighter from his jacket and held it to the rag ready. "Dean! Step on it!" he yelled, but he could hear the engine start to splutter slightly. He lit the rag and threw the bomb towards the approaching train. It fell to the ground ahead of it, but blew as the train passed over. Millions of salt particles were sent off like a volcano eruption, the train seemed to slow slightly, but the engine of the cruiser suddenly grew strong.

Without another moments hesitation, Dean stepped onto the gas pedal and they sped off at top speed, the train hot on their heels. Sam reached down for another bomb, lit it, and chucked it at the train. It went off as the fuse burned down, the salt yet again weakening the metal monster slightly.

Dean drove carefully across the baron but lumpy field, the sheriff nervously directing him towards the location of what was once the next station. Sam yet again reached for another of the bombs, lit it and threw it. He repeated this every so often along the short journey, until there was only one left. Before he lit it, he looked around and saw that they were approaching an old platform, overgrown with weeds and wildflowers. They had nearly made it. He turned and lit the last bomb, again throwing it at the train which had almost caught them up.

He watched as that one also showered the train with the salt within, then turned his attention to where they were headed. The platform was suddenly rushing by the left side of the cruiser, and Dean had picked up extra speed bringing them further ahead of the Express.

But suddenly, Dean hit the brakes hard. Sam held on with all his might, but was nearly thrown out of the top with the force. "Dean!" he yelled as they skidded to a halt. "Dean its still coming!" sure enough, the Express was on course, and was gaining speed now.

Sam dropped into the cruiser realising that the overgrowth ahead was blocking the rest of the way, all three of them reached for the handles. But the doors wern't opening. Desperately, they banged at the windows and tried the handles again and again, but it was no good.

"Damn it!" Dean yelled.

"Dean how the hell are we..." Sam turned to look out of the back window when he heard the train screeching to a stop on the non-existing track. It rolled for a short distance before it gave in to it's brakes.

"What the hell...?" Dean said turning in his seat to get a look at what was going on outside behind them, the sheriff doing the same.

As they looked at the suddenly still train, they couldn't believe their eyes. Right there inches in front of it, stood Dolly Hancock in her long white night gown and slippers. The steam whirled around her peacefully.

"What on earth is Dolly doin' out here?" the sheriff asked in utter astonishment.

Sam tried the door handle again. This time it opened and he got out of the cruiser, and began to walk slowly around the back. Dean and the sheriff had soon joined him, and they watched amazed as the driver of the ghostly train stepped down from the engine and greeted Dolly with a smile.

"Its her father..." Sam said softly.

"We should go get her..." the sheriff said as he began to walk towards Dolly, but Dean reached an arm out, stopping him from going any further. "But we have to take her home..."

"Shes not going home." Dean said quietly.

"I don't understand..." said the sheriff confused. He looked at Sam hoping that he'd shed some light on the situation.

"Dolly must have died...that's her spirit." Sam said emotionally.

All three men stood and watched as the ghost of Dolly Hancock was reunited with her father after all of the long years that had passed since she had last seen him. Mr. Hancock was tall, he towered over Dolly as he gently cupped her face in both hands and beamed proudly at her. From the windows of the carriages, faces looked out to see their driver and his daughter, some began to step out onto the shabby platform, each disappearing completely after a few steps.

Dolly turned her head and looked directly at Sam, Dean and the sheriff, giving them a smile and a wink. Then she followed her father up into the engine, the whole train began to flicker and shimmer, it became more translucent as the remaining passengers vanished from sight, then the train itself was gone.

"Phew! That was a close one!" said Dean relieved.

The sheriff was frozen to the spot still staring at the now empty platform, his jaw wide open.

"Well, she told us that her father had promised her a ride on the train..." Sam said thoughtfully, smiling at the happy ending.

S-U-P-E-R-N-A-T-U-R-A-L

Thanks to the sheriff sweet talking Mrs. Harper for them, Sam and Dean had been allowed to stay at The Oak Tree until the following morning when it became time for them to leave Jasper. They drove slowly through the town. It was already turning into another beautiful day, the early sun golden upon everything that it touched. There was clearly a lighter atmosphere today, the weight of angry spirits finally lifted and released.

As they approached the road that had brought them to the town in the first place, they spotted sheriff Branscombe's cruiser parked outside the late Dolly Hancock's house.

Dean pulled the Impala over just as the sheriff and deputy Denholm were coming out of the front door, and were greeted by smiles from both of them. The deputy was walking Mr. Charles on his leash.

"Hey there fellas!" the sheriff called out as he walked over to the Impala. Dean wound his window down so that they could talk to him, "You on your way out now?"

"Yeah, we don't tend to hang around once our job has been done." said Dean.

"Look, I'm glad you two stopped by," the sheriff said quietly so that the deputy wouldn't be able to hear, "I just wanted to thank you again for what you did last night. This afternoon I'm gonna be tellin' the authorities about what really happened with the Thunder Express all them years ago. To be honest, I'll be glad to get it all out into the open once and for all." he sighed, "I'll be turnin' in my badge too. Figure it's about time an old fogey like me should retire, let the deputy step up. It seems like the right thing to do now."

"Well good luck with everything sheriff." Sam smiled.

"Yeah, hope they don't give you too much of a hard time." Dean added.

"Oh! I almost forgot!" the sheriff said excitedly, changing the subject, "Seems old Dolly took an instant shine to you boys! Must have realised she didn't have long left, we found a note which was a bit like a livin' will." he turned to look at the deputy, "Hey Joe! Wanna bring him over!"

Dean suddenly had a really horrible feeling.

"Left you the dog!" the sheriff chuckled, he bent down to pick Mr. Charles up and stroked him affectionately on the head.

"Er...you know, we travel too much to keep a pet." said Dean his expression horrified as he remembered the last time that he'd seen the frisky canine.

Sam was sniggering, but managed to turn serious, "You know sheriff, maybe you could keep him for us. He'll give you some company, you won't be so alone any more."

"Why...thank you boys..." he said, eyes sparkling with joy as he gave his new friend a pat on the head. Mr. Charles licked his face in appreciation. It was a match made in heaven.

"So er, we'd better get goin' then..." Dean said, now in an obvious hurry to get as far away from the dog as possible.

The sheriff looked back at the brothers smiling, "You two take care now, y'hear."

"We'll try to!" Dean assured him. With that he started the Impala up again and drove out of town.

S-U-P-E-R-N-A-T-U-R-A-L

"Dean, can I ask you something?" Sam said after a long silence.

"Yup, what's wrong?" he looked quickly from the road to Sam and noticed that he looked upset.

"Its just...I was thinking about when Dolly died. She was reunited with her father's spirit, and it makes me wonder if, when it's our time..." he trailed off.

"Sam?"

"Do you think we'll be reunited with mom and dad? Will we see them again?"

Dean felt a surge of emotions slap at him hard. He glanced once more at Sam who was staring back at him, waiting for an answer, an answer that would comfort him. It was the same way that he'd looked at him the day that he was told that monsters existed, but Santa didn't. A plea for reassurance from his big brother, some sure sign that there was still a glint of hope in this evil desperate world.

Blinking back tears that were threatening to appear, Dean turned to focus back on the road, "I...I don't know Sammy." he said gently, "But y'know, if there was a way that they could be there for us...waitin'...I know they'd try. That's something that we can hold on to, something that we can believe in. Something to keep fighting for..."

"I...I guess." Sam mumbled, struggling to keep his own emotions at bay.

"Anyway!" Dean added, slapping Sam on the knee trying to change the mood, "It's gonna be a long while before we get to find out. If we die_ too_ early, dad will kick our butts!"

Sam chuckled, "Yeah, he would!"

We're gonna make 'em proud Sam!" Dean smiled as he pictured mom and dad's faces, that alone was heaven.

"Thanks Dean." Sam said after a few moments.

"For what?"

"For always knowing exactly what to say."

"Yeah well just don't tell anyone. I've got a reputation to uphold." and with that, he pressed play on the out-dated cassette deck, and as Boston's _Peace Of Mind_ flowed out of the speakers, he cranked up the volume.

Then it was on to the next hunt.

**THE END**


End file.
